


Shadows of Hatred Past

by SabineElectricHeart (TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Family, Fratricide, Married Life, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns/pseuds/SabineElectricHeart
Summary: Sylvain has promised to treat his children equally, regardless of Crests. When his son hurts his daughter, he finds out it is easier said than done.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Miklan, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 18





	Shadows of Hatred Past

Sylvain carefully brushes Isolde’s crimson red curls back, inspecting the bump on the baby’s forehead, looking at the rather pig work he made of healing his own daughter. His specialty was reason magic, not faith magic, but so far north, in the high of winter, even the Margrave himself may have difficulty to find a healer.

The bleeding has subsided and her soiled clothes had been changed. At the very least, the little fifteen-Moon girl has ceased her strident crying now, which is a relief, but her light green eyes are still red and puffy from her earlier spell. Her usually bright demeanour was also quite muted. It was usual for children who just passed through a painful or scary experience.

Sylvain presses a gentle kiss to his daughter’s forehead, trying the old remedy of a little love to take away the pain.

“You’re alright darling.” He assures both her and himself.

The redhead Margrave gently palpates the welt as he spreads a salve his wife had brought with her from their last visit to Garreg Mach over the injury. Isolde whines softly, placing her two small hands over his own large one, trying to stop the painful experience.

“Shhh, daddy’s got you. No need to cry, princess.” The slightly-frantic still father assures in an attempt to ward off more tears.

Sylvain looks up when he hears the distinctive knock on his study door. “Come in.”

Byleth enters the room, carrying a tray of tea, some biscuits and a mint leaf for Isolde to chew on.

“How is she?” The religious leader asks as she sets the tray down on his desk, pouring cups for both of them. She pulls the other desk chair from the opposite side of the desk so she can sit beside her husband.

“She will be fine, but...” Sylvain responds, tone wary, pausing as the subject weighs heavily on his soul. “I think I need to talk to Dagobert.”

“I do not think you should, at least not what I am thinking you want to say. It is absolutely normal for him to be jealous, as he was used to being an only child.” Byleth insists, as it has been a topic of discussion ever since they found the girl bleeding profusely on the ground and the boy crying unconsolably. “I do not think he meant to hurt her, Sylvain, and we should take that into consideration. He just forgets how fragile she is. I am sure it was an honest mistake, and I have dealt with it already. It will not happen again.”

“I would like very much to think he didn’t mean to hurt her, but.... I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if there is... If Dagobert and Isolde will repeat the same mistakes that I and Miklan made before.” Sylvain admits, staring at Isolde’s welt since he cannot look into his wife’s eyes after making such a heavy accusation.

Once upon a time, the Gautier dynasts were the staunchest defenders of Crest supremacy in all of Fódlan. It was a prerequisite to bear one, preferably a Major one, to ascent to the Margraviate. Necessities aside, such a position was fraught with many personal tragedies and family conflicts over the millennia of their history.

More recently, the oldest son of the previous Margrave, Miklan, had been born without a Crest, while the youngest, Sylvain, bore it. Such a legacy of violence, abuse and politics forced the current titleholder to kill his own brother, even if the trauma remains with the family for posterity.

When he married, Sylvain had promised his father that he would abolish the demands of a Crest for succession, whether the old man liked it or not. When Dagobert was born Crestless, the younger man made due with his promise.

He rejected the notion that his wife, while the Archbishop and Crested, was still lowborn and therefore unable to produce an heir with a Crest. He also refused to denounce his son, and raised him with all the resources, love and care that, on other times, would be reserved for a child blessed by the Goddess.

It all changed when Isolde was born. She carried the coveted Major Crest of Gautier, and as soon as it was confirmed by the Church, it began the pressure for the Margrave to boot his firstborn in favour of his daughter. He refused, of course, adamantly at that, but he does know that it weighs over his young son, a pressure the boy is not equipped to deal with, and the father fears what it might mean in their future.

“You are Dagobert’s father, Sylvain. I trust you will not make him feel like Miklan, and I trust my son will not make the same mistakes, either.” Byleth insists, tone stern.

Sylvain still is not looking at her. His wife gently cups his stubbled cheeks, forcing him to meet her loving gaze. She presses a gentle kiss to his lips, and then ducks to press a kiss to Isolde’s forehead.

“Dagobert loves his baby sister, I know it in my heart. We merely have to teach him to be gentler when picking her up.” The Archbishop assures him.

Sylvain leans forward to kiss Byleth again, more passionately this time. He laughs when Isolde uses her tiny hands to push her mother away.

“She is such a daddy’s girl…” The woman playfully complains as she leans back to admire the scene.

Sylvain smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of Isolde’s head. “She has my whole heart. Along with Dagobert, of course.”

“This is all fine and dandy, but does you not suppose you are forgetting someone, Margrave Gautier?” Byleth returns, hands resting on her hips in faux irritation.

Sylvain gently places Isolde on the desk to free up his lap, keeping a steady but light grip on her tiny arm to make sure she stays put. With his free hand, he tugs Byleth into his lap.

“Dearest, you are my soulmate. My constant companion and closest confidant. Everything good in my life has come as a direct result of you being my professor all those years ago, of you taking a chance on me even when I certainly did not deserve it. I will love you until my dying breath, and even after that.” Sylvain concludes his loving monologue with another kiss.

They are just starting to get carried away when Isolde lets out an irritated “Yah!”

Byleth breaks from his lips, picking up her daughter. “Do not be greedy, Isolde, it is unbecoming. You have to share Daddy with me and Dagobert.”


End file.
